


The Distance From "A" to "Where You'd Be" (It's Only Finger Lengths That I See)

by boyinterrupted (burningtree)



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2723600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burningtree/pseuds/boyinterrupted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cordelia doesn't want to let her family down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Distance From "A" to "Where You'd Be" (It's Only Finger Lengths That I See)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt: Cordelia wakes up panicked from a nightmare about losing Misty (maybe a flashback to her being M.I.A. in the graveyard)... Misty wakes up to comfort Delia and assure her she'll never leave---passionate, fluffy smut ensues!
> 
> I don't know if it's as smutty as they would've liked, but I tried my best. Title comes from the song "Set Fire To The Third Bar" which I highly recommend listening to!

 Streaks of lightning shot through the night sky, followed by the slow, menacing rumble of thunder. Outside, the heavy rain beat a steady tattoo against the window. It had been threatening to rain all day, with the local forecast promising thunderstorms by nightfall. The Coven had been prepared; most of them having sensed the coming gale days in advance. The Supreme, in particular, had felt it brewing for weeks, though she had desperately wished otherwise.

 Thankfully, none of her charges seemed to share her fear; instead choosing to retire early, as Queenie had told her when she’d called to check on them, letting the orchestra of storm lull them to sleep. Her wife had shared that sentiment, and her swamp witch had dragged them upstairs to their four-poster bed despite the older blonde’s protests, citing their lack of sleep in recent weeks as motivation enough.

 Beyond the safety of their home, lightning continued to crackle throughout the sky, briefly illuminating the room and its inhabitants. In her sleep, Cordelia Day shivered, letting out the barest hint of a whimper. Her dreams were as turbulent as the tempest raging outside, the peal of thunder seeming to shatter any illusions of peace she had. Not even in her sleep could she escape the storm, its wrath bordering on biblical proportions. In her fitful slumber, the very wind seemed to be calling for the headmistress. _Vengeance,_ cried every roar of thunder, every crack of lightning.

 Cordelia thrashed in her sleep, arms scrambling under the covers as she unconsciously reached for the swamp witch, who had rolled away from her embrace in her slumber. The Supreme’s body shook with silent sobs as her hands found empty space; her sleeping form curled in on itself, continuing to shake as the storm raged on. In her dreams, Cordelia faced a maelstrom matching the havoc outside.

                                                                        

* * *

 

  _She was back in the graveyard again. What was she doing in the graveyard? She glanced furtively around, the fog making it harder to see anything beyond her immediate vicinity. “Hello?” Cordelia called out softly, timidly. A sense of unease seemed to permeate the air, though she could see no threats. The headmistress bit her lip, told herself to press on, and took a shaky step forward. She needed to move forward; there was something here she was supposed to see, though how she knew that, she couldn’t say._

_Taking a deep breath, the woman continued onwards. The Supreme wandered without any real sense of direction; time seemed to be as still as the bodies the graveyard housed. She kept calling out at regular intervals, trying to examine her surroundings for some sort of clue as to where exactly she was supposed to go. She received no replies, however, and the landscape remained unchanged. Cordelia shivered, wrapping her bare arms around herself as she walked. The feeling of hopelessness was omnipresent._

_Eventually, the blonde discovered a break in the fog, some small pathway between two broken-down crypts. Gathering her resolve, she pushed onwards, slipping through the gap and reaching a small, desolate clearing. A single mausoleum stood in the centre of it, snow white and made of marble.  She could see nothing else for miles. The feeling of unease returned tenfold; with no clear reason why, she began heading towards the catacomb, her anxiety growing with each step. Her pace quickened, until she broke out into a run, racing across the barren terrain._

_Cordelia reached the black, wrought-iron door, never breaking her stride as she threw it open, stumbling into the doorway. A single, wooden casket was placed in the middle of the room, the oak still sleek and shiny. The Supreme choked back a sob, raising a hand to her mouth as her discontent reached a crescendo; she knew, whatever lay in that coffin would ruin her. Slowly, as if in a trance, she stepped forward, hand outstretched. Her fingers brushed against it, and she instantly recoiled, the chill shocking her to her very core._

_The headmistress blinked back tears as she reached forward once more, hands clutching the handle as she slowly pushed the lid open, the wood surprisingly weightless. At her first glimpse, Cordelia fell back with a wail, tears now pouring freely down her cheeks. By some unseen force, the casket opened the rest of the way, the Supreme’s eyes now locked on the horrific site in front of her._

_Misty Day lay in the coffin, clad in a white dress and cradling the shawl Stevie had given her. The contrast between her dress and the shawl made her alabaster skin even paler, giving her an ethereal look. Cordelia pressed a palm to her mouth, muffling her cries as she screamed against the skin of her hand. Misty’s face looked peaceful, though there was no illusion of sleep to be found there. She didn’t look to be resting; she looked the furthest thing from alive._

_“No!” Cordelia sobbed, her mind refusing to process what she was seeing. “No, no, oh God! Misty, how, why?!”_

_The Supreme lurched forward, careening into the tomb in her effort to reach her love. She sobbed even harder, incoherent noises tumbling out her mouth as she raked her fingers through Misty’s wild curls. She bent down, pressing her lips to the swamp witch’s forehead and forcing herself not to flinch at the Cajun’s icy skin. She buried her face in golden curls and cried, pleading for Misty to wake up, to come back to her. Letting out a low, broken moan, she rose, moving to cup her wife’s face._

_Choking back tears, she reached forwards, tucking a curl behind Misty’s ear, pausing as her wedding band glinted in the candlelight. To give herself something else to look at, she turned her attention to the swamp witch’s hands, moving to trace the matching band and her engagement ring. Cordelia paused, brow furrowing as she shifted to look at the shawl tangled in her poor wife’s hands. Misty loved that shawl; it was one of her most prized possessions. If she was to be buried with it, she would have wanted to be wearing it._

_Steeling herself, the older blonde moved to pull at the fabric, determined to bury her wife the way she would’ve wanted. As she pulled, her fingers encountered a lump in the garment, too low down to be the gentle rise of her chest. Cordelia froze, her mind running on autopilot as she tentatively reached forward, tugging back the shawl. Cordelia fell back a second time as she revealed the lump, screaming out as her despair reached a breaking point. Their newborn baby lay swathed in the fabric, just as still and just as cold the body it was resting on._

_“Oh my God!” The Supreme fell to her knees, cradling her face in her hands as she howled, no longer able to endure the sight before her. “God, why? Why?!”_

_“Oh, quit your whining.” The cold voice rang throughout the room, causing the blonde to jump. Recognizing the voice, she kept her head down, though she moved to rest her hands in her lap._

_The steady click-clack on the marble floor betrayed the figure’s movement, and out of the corner of her eye, the headmistress could see tall, black heels and tinged stockings. “You know exactly what caused this.” The voice spoke in that same mocking tone she’d come to know and loathe._

_Slowly, she raised her head, turning to meet the figure’s gaze. When she spoke, it was a low, defeated sound. “Tell me what I did.” Tears continued to roll down her cheeks. “Tell me how to fix this.”_

_Fiona Goode stepped closer, and Cordelia was tempted to scream and lash out, to rise up and strike her; anything but see her again, anything but listen to her speak. Oh, how she hated that arrogant strut. The former Supreme drew nearer to Misty’s casket, but Cordelia cut her off with a harsh “Don’t.” The matriarch raised her eyes, but backed off as her successor stared her down. She lit a cigarette, snapping the lighter shut in an attempt to provoke the headmistress. The briefest flicker of a scowl passed over her face when the woman didn’t react, and she moved towards her progeny._

_“You can’t fix this.” Fiona drawled, strolling around her daughter in lazy circles. Like a vulture, swathed in black as she was. That was Fiona Goode; elegant even in death._

_“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Wherever here was. Perhaps this was hell, after all. It certainly felt like it._

_“Papa Legba owed me a favour.” Her mother replied, absentmindedly flicking cigarette ash. “Why, did ya miss me?”_

_“Like hell.” Cordelia scoffed. “How’s the Axeman?”_

_“I’m glad Supremacy finally gave you a backbone, even if it is wasted on a talentless little weakling like you.” The older witch ignored the jab, sending one of her own in return._

_“Oh, quit the dramatics, mother! Just tell me how I can fix this.” Fresh tears spilled anew as she gazed at the casket. Her wife; her baby. She didn’t even know the sex of her child._

_“You really wanna know? I’ll tell ya.” Fiona sneered, taking a harsh drag of smoke. “It’s all because of you, little Delia. Everything you see here, is all because of you. It’s all. Your. Fault.” The former Supreme punctuated each word with a sharp jab of her fingers._

_“No! How can that be? I haven’t done anything!” Cordelia brought a hand to her mouth, attempting to muffle her sobs._

_“Oh, but that’s exactly it, you haven’t done anything!” Her mother cried, a half-crazed look in her eyes. Cordelia recoiled; for the first time since ascending to Supremacy, she was afraid of the woman._

_“You didn’t do shit, Delia!” The older blonde raved. “All the power in the world and you just sat back and pissed it all away! And now look who suffers because of it, your own wife and child!”_

_Cordelia cried out in agony, burying her face in her hands as her body was wracked with sobs. The matriarch relished in the display of weakness from her progeny, practically feeding on the woman’s misery._

_“You’re weak, you stupid girl. Weak!” She carried on, rising up as the Supreme continued to wail and cry. “You always have been, and you always will be, and no powers or fancy title will change that! You couldn’t even protect your own, and look where they ended up! Dead! All because of you!”_

_“Please,” Cordelia sobbed out. “Please help me mother, I’ll do anything! I’m sorry- I didn’t mean-” The headmistress’ breathing was bordering on hysterical, barely able to get the words out amid her desperate sobs and cries._

_“There’s nothing that can be done, foolish girl.” The woman spat. “Pathetic, you couldn’t even help yourself.”_

_“Oh, God!” Cordelia whimpered, cradling her head in her hands. “Misty, I’m so sorry, oh God. I let you down, I let our baby down.” The woman continued to cry softly._

_Smirking, Fiona took one last drag of her cigarette before tossing the butt aside, snuffing it out on the immaculate, marble surface._

_“Well, Delia?” She called, striding towards the coffin. “Would you like to at least hold your baby, before they’re put to rest?” The former Supreme reached for the tiny bundle in Misty’s arms, looking like a crow about to steal from a nest._

_“No! Don’t touch them!” Cordelia was on her feet in an instant, hand outstretched as she threw the woman back with her powers. Fiona could belittle her all she liked, but she would not go near her family. The Supreme wouldn’t fail them again._

_The former matriarch hit the wall with a sickening crack, falling to the ground in a heap, where she lay still. Satisfied that she had been dealt with, the headmistress turned back to the casket, hoping to grieve in peace. As she reached out to gently stroke the newborn in her wife’s arms, a hand shot out, tightly gripping her wrist. Cordelia yelped, stumbling backwards as she yanked her hand back, turning to face her assailant._

_Hank Foxx stood before her, a rifle strapped to his back and looking just as sorrowful as he had been that fateful day in the greenhouse. “Hank!” The Supreme cried. “How-”_

_“Why, Delia?” The man cut her off, advancing forward as the blonde retreated. She hurriedly glanced at the wall where her mother lay, only to find that the former Supreme had vanished._

_“Why?” Her ex-husband spoke again, the morose tone of his voice matching the sorrow etched onto his face. “How could you do this to me, to us?”_

_He continued moving towards her, the headmistress stumbling back as the witch hunter drew nearer. “I don’t understand..” She gasped out, still reeling from the shock of it all._

_A grimace passed over his face and she flinched, hyperaware of the weapon he carried. “That’s exactly it!” He roared, making her jump. “You don’t understand, you never did!”_

_Cordelia raised her hands in an attempt to placate the witch hunter. “Hank..”_

_“I loved you, Cordelia!” He cried. “All I wanted was to love you, to have a family with you, and you couldn’t even give me that!” He gestured at Misty’s tomb with an angry swipe of his hand. “What does she have that I don’t, huh?!”_

_“Don’t you dare bring her into this!” Cordelia snapped. “She loved me, she cared for me, and she didn’t lie to me throughout the course of our entire relationship!”_

_The expression on Hank’s face was bordering on murderous. “I’m dead, because of you.” He spoke in a cold, clear voice._

_The Supreme’s jaw dropped. “How dare you! You’re dead because of your own foolish mistakes!”_

_“Tell that to the rest of them!” The witch hunter indicated the crypt with a sweep of his hand._

_Cordelia’s eyes widened as she watched figures step out of the shadows; all of them familiar._

_“I could’ve been the Supreme.” A sopping, dishevelled Nan spoke._

_“I- That wasn’t my fault! My mother and Marie Laveau-”_

_“Oh, don’t blame me for your own shortcomings.” The former matriarch appeared once more, moving to stand next to Hank._

_“You were our teacher; you were supposed to protect us.” Zoe said, her face set in an uncharacteristic sneer. Queenie stood next to her, and the two moved to flank Nan; both of them bearing bleeding, gaping holes in their stomachs._

_“I could’ve been somebody, I had potential. You didn’t care because I wasn’t some light-skinned valley girl like the rest of your girls.” The voodoo witch spat._

_“No,” Cordelia whimpered. “I brought you back! I healed you!” She pleaded to her former students, now utterly confused._

_“What about me?” Madison waltzed out of the darkness, coming to stand next to Zoe. “I died twice, no thanks to you!” The diva snapped._

_“Please, I brought you back, I helped you!” The headmistress sobbed. In desperation, she turned back to her wife’s casket, falling to her knees before the wooden tomb._

_“Oh God, Misty please wake up!” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she clutched at the swamp witch’s icy hands. “You can’t be dead, you always come back; you’re supposed to come back!”_

_“Please, Misty.” She whispered brokenly. “Sequere lucem, venite ad me.” There was nothing but silence._

_Sobbing, Cordelia rested her head on her dead wife’s shoulder, as the people she had wronged descended on her, like a pack of wolves howling for justice._

* * *

 

 The Supreme awoke with a strangled cry, limbs flailing as her mind struggled to make sense of the nightmare. Tears leaked out of her eyes as she remembered the traumatic scene, the cruel words her tormentors and even loved ones had spat at her. How friend and family alike revolted against her. She choked back a sob as she recalled images of Misty and their baby, how she had looked so pale and fragile in her casket, cradling the tiny bundle in her arms. She rolled onto her side, breathing out a sigh of relief as she saw her wife, unharmed and lying a few feet away, facing away from her.

 She bit her lip, before shuffling closer to the swamp witch, pressing her front flush against the younger blonde’s back. Cordelia nuzzled into wild curls, breathing in the comforting scent of lavender and cinnamon. She pressed a kiss to the Cajun’s neck, her hand sliding down to cup Misty’s protruding stomach as she silently willed her tears to stop. Her fingers crept further down, seeking a spot below the other witch’s bellybutton. Sure enough, as her hand brushed against it, she felt the sharp kick she’d come to expect, growing stronger as each month passed.

 The Supreme couldn’t help the sob of relief she let out at the contact, lips quirking up into a smile. She burrowed deeper into the swamp witch, hand tracing soothing circles as she cried silently. After a particularly strong kick, she felt the Cajun shift against her, a warm hand reaching down to cover her own. “Darlin’?” Misty husked, her rasp even more pronounced in her drowsy state.

 Guilt wracked Cordelia’s body, and she bent to lightly peck the swamp witch’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” She moved to draw her hand back, but Misty ignored the gesture, tugging it back and giving her hand a comforting squeeze. Fresh tears rolled down the older blonde’s face, feeling awful that she had disturbed her wife’s rest, especially when she had gotten precious little of it these past few weeks.

 “It’s alright,” The Cajun yawned. “’M used to it by now, with this little night owl.” She lightly stroked her stomach, moving their joined hands back and forth across the taunt skin. Cordelia gave a watery smile as their baby kicked again.

 “I guess it’s time for Vivien’s nightly aerobics.” Misty laughed quietly, feeling their son shift around.

 Cordelia giggled, only to have the noise break off into a whimper as a flash of lightning lit up the room, closely followed by the low rumble of thunder. She had forgotten about the storm.

 “Delia, _baby_.” The concern in her wife’s voice was what broke the floodgates, the older blonde now openly sobbing into her golden curls. Misty shifted suddenly, turning to face the Supreme and gather her into her arms. Cordelia pressed her face to Misty’s collarbone as she cried; one arm wrapped around the Cajun while the other cupped her stomach. The swamp witch lightly stroked her back, murmuring sweet nothings and Stevie lyrics to her wife.

 The younger blonde pressed a chaste kiss onto straight, blonde strands. “It’s ok, darlin’.” She cooed to the older woman. “I got ya; you just let all them demons out. It’s alright, baby.”

 Another peal of thunder sounded out, and the Supreme shivered; still wary, though calmer now that she was in her wife’s arms. For as long as she could remember, storms had terrified her. It had started when she was just a small child, after Fiona had refused to comfort her during a particularly bad thunderstorm, choosing to share her bed with her latest fling instead. Cordelia had never forgotten the sense of utter abandonment she had felt, and when her mother had learnt of her fear, she had only provoked her, using it as yet another point to find fault with.

 Misty had been completely supportive when the Supreme had admitted her childhood fear, more than happy to act as her security blanket. Cordelia still remembered the first time she and the Cajun had faced a thunderstorm, back before they had fallen in love, when Misty had just been the sweet, shy girl from the swamps, with a passion for plants that rivalled her own. The storm had happened late at night, and suddenly. She had been quivering in her bed alone, sobbing into her pillow when her bedroom door had creaked open. Before she could react, the swamp witch had crossed the room and climbed into her bed, singing _Rhiannon_ and holding the headmistress while she shook and cried.

 Cordelia still cherished that night, never forgetting the way Misty had scowled as she had recalled how the former Supreme would belittle her for being so afraid of the storms, the swamp witch’s fury at the scorn seeming to reflect the very tempest itself.

 “Ya feelin’ any better, baby?” The Cajun’s sweet husk cut through her reverie, and the older witch gave a tiny nod.

 “You’re so brave, darlin’.” The swamp witch pressed another, loving kiss to her blonde locks, tracing simple patterns into the soft skin of her back. “I’m so proud of ya.”

 Cordelia blushed at the praise, feeling anything but valiant. “I’m sorry for waking you up. And, you know, acting like this.”

 “Oh, darlin’, no, ya stop that right now.” Misty tightened her grip on the Supreme, enveloping her in a fierce hug. “ _I’m_ sorry. I should ‘a stayed up with you, made sure you were alright.” She blushed, a sheepish expression on her face. “I didn’t mean to pass out on ya.”

 The older blonde shook her head. “It’s alright, _really._ I just can’t help feeling guilty; you’ve been so tired, lately.” Although Misty had seen a brief restoration of energy when she’d entered her second trimester, her fatigue had returned tenfold once she’d hit seven months.

 “Dee, you’re my wife.” The younger witch husked, and Cordelia couldn’t help the pleased shudder that ran through her. “I have to look out for you, too. Just ‘cause I’m pregnant doesn’t mean ya gotta put my needs ahead of your own.”

 The Supreme’s eyes watered, though this time with happy tears. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

 “I ask myself the same question every day, darlin’.”

 Cordelia raised her head to meet Misty’s gaze, taken aback at the love and happiness she found there. “I love you.” She murmured, joining their lips in a slow, sweet kiss.

 “Love ya too, babydoll.” The swamp witch pressed a kiss to her temple, lightly rubbing her back. “Ya feelin’ any better?”

 The older blonde nodded, though she didn’t quite meet the Cajun’s eyes. Predictably, her wife sighed, reaching to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Dee..”

 “It’s nothing.” The headmistress was quick to speak. “It was just a bad dream.” The mere mention of it made her duck her head again. She squeezed her eyes shut, images of the dream dancing behind her eyelids. She pressed herself closer to the swamp witch, attempting to counteract the images she saw in her mind. Misty was _alive_ , she and Vivien were safe. She hadn’t failed them- yet.

 “Darlin’, if it were nothin’ ya wouldn’t be shakin’ like a leaf right now.” The younger blonde said, concern lacing her voice. “Do ya wanna talk about it?”

 Cordelia bit her lip, knowing she should but still so hesitant to say the words aloud. It was silly, she knew, but in her mind talking about the nightmare would give life to all the fear and self-doubt she’d felt these past eight months. “I don’t want to worry you needlessly over some silly dream.” She muttered.

 “Cordelia, it’s never silly where you’re concerned.” The Cajun reached to cup her jaw, gently tilting her head up to look at her. “I ain’t gonna force ya, but I’m here if ya want to, ok?” She traced her cheek with her thumb, before lightly kissing the older blonde’s head.

 The headmistress chewed her lip, shifting to lay her head on the swamp witch’s chest. Listening to her heart beat, her wife’s arms wrapped around her and feeling their son shift and rock between them, was a magic like nothing she had ever experienced before. Letting the rhythm of the heart she owned sooth her, Cordelia took a shaky breath and began to recount her nightmare. Fresh tears spilled anew as the Supreme recalled finding Misty and Vivien in the casket, how her loved ones had turned on her and old enemies returned to haunt her. Through it all, Misty held her close, offering sympathetic noises and gestures when needed, remaining silent for the most part.

 “It was horrible.” The older woman sobbed. “It all seemed so.. _Real._ And the worst part was, they were right.”

 “Baby, what do ya mean?” The Cajun’s brow furrowed as she spoke.

 “I mean, everything they said. It’s all true.” The Supreme said quietly, tears streaming down her cheeks.

 “Delia-”

 “No, Misty, they were right. I was headmistress; I was supposed to look after the girls. Nan and Madison were both murdered while under my care, Queenie and Zoe were almost mortally wounded, I-” Cordelia’s voice shook as she continued. “I almost lost you to Descensum. My mother was right, I don’t deserve Supremacy.”

 “Oh, _Dee,_ now ya know that ain’t true at all, darlin’.” Their gazes met, and the swamp witch leant to kiss her cheek. “Yea, a lot of awful shit went down, but ya can’t blame yourself for it.”

 “How can I not?” The older blonde whispered. “I am at fault here. I should’ve- done _something_. Anything would’ve been better than how I handled it.”

 “Baby, listen to me.” The Cajun cupped her face with soft, gentle hands. “What happened.. Wasn’t right. But it _wasn’t your fault._ Fiona was runnin’ around doin’ some terrible things; fact ‘o the matter is, she’s the one at fault here, not you. She killed Madison, she and that Marie Laveau woman drowned Nan. It’s thanks to her feud with the voodoo witches that Queenie got hurt in the first place, and it was her inability to die gracefully that led to us havin’ to perform the Seven Wonders.”

 “But I stood aside and let her act as she saw fit.” Cordelia bowed her head in shame. “I should’ve kept a closer eye on her and the girls, I should’ve realised my own power sooner. That was my one weakness and she knew it, I was never able to stand up to her.”

 “Sweetheart, ya stood up to her plenty of times.” She gave the older blonde a comforting squeeze. “Listen to me; you’re ten times the Supreme that mean ol’ snake in the grass ever was.”

 The headmistress gave a weak chuckle, ducking to place a chaste kiss against the younger witch’s neck. Between them, she felt their son give a half-hearted kick, as if agreeing with his mama’s statement. The action made her smile, and she resumed tracing slow circles onto the Cajun’s stomach. Vivien truly was their little miracle. She and Misty had been together for six years and married for two when they had broached the subject of children, something Cordelia had simultaneously been dreading and looking forward to. After tip-toeing around the discussion for weeks, Misty had finally come out and asked her wife if she had wanted children, when she had given her a copy of a fertility spell for Christmas. They had performed the ritual on New Year’s Day, and three weeks later, after purchasing every pregnancy test available, Misty had tested positive.

 Though she cherished all of her time spent with her wife, these past eight months had been the happiest and most exciting of her life. After thirty-four weeks of dealing with morning sickness, hormones, arguing over names, and assembling cribs and car seats, they couldn’t wait to meet their son. Both women had been adamant from the start to give their baby the childhood they never had, one without fear or abuse, but full of love and happiness. Cordelia bit her lip as she thought. The nightmare had been a visual representation of her greatest fears; inadequacy, letting her loved ones down.

 “What if I fail?” The Supreme whispered, barely able to get the words out.

 “What do ya mean, baby?” Her wife’s southern drawl soothed her, and gave her the courage to continue.

 “You and Vivien, I don’t want to let either of you down. I.. I don’t want to be like my mother.” Her voice broke as she admitted her fear, the thought that had been plaguing her for months.

 “Dee, _baby_ ,” Misty reached down to cover the hand on her stomach with her own, pressing her lips to the older woman’s temple. “Delia, ya would never- _never,_ let me an’ Vivi down. Lord, Delia, you’re my moon and my stars, and everythin’ that’s right in the world. There’s no way ya could _ever_ fail, and you’re certainly nothin’ like your mother. You’re gonna be a fuckin’ great parent, Dee. Way better than she ever was.”

 Cordelia surged forward, fusing their lips together while pulling the swamp witch impossibly closer. “I love you so much.” She whispered against her wife’s lips.

 “I love ya too, darlin’.” Misty husked once they drew back.

 Cordelia bit her lip, a sheepish expression on her face. “I’m sorry for being so.. All over the place. You’re the one who’s supposed to have mood swings.” She giggled.

 “It’s perfectly alright, darlin’, never apologize for bein’ human.”

 “I’m just so nervous.” The older witch sighed. “I want to be a good mother to our baby, and a good wife to you. I want to be kind and loving and supportive, I don’t ever want our son to feel like he can’t come talk to me.”

 “Well, that won’t be too hard since ya already are all ‘o those things.” The Cajun joked, lips quirking up in a playful smirk.

 Cordelia blushed. “You seriously don’t think I’m just neurotic?”

 “’Course not, babe. Hell, I been worryin’ about the same thing since we conceived.” Misty shifted, looking heartbreakingly vulnerable in that moment. “I read in a book once that it runs in families; abuse, ya know?”

 “Misty..” Cordelia’s eyes widened. “You never told me about this.”

 The swamp witch shrugged, not quite meeting her wife’s eyes. “Well, I mean, I didn’t wanna bug ya. You’re so busy with the academy and everything, and I felt like I was bein’ selfish. I’m carrying our _child_ ; I should be grateful, not worrying about all this stupid shit.”

 “Oh, _baby._ ” Cordelia enveloped the younger blonde in a fierce embrace. “Now what’d you just say to me, hm? It isn’t silly and you aren’t being selfish, at all. You are _nothing_ like your parents, my love. You’re kind, caring, and compassionate and you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You’re going to be an amazing mother, Mist, I promise you that.”

 Misty’s eyes glistened, tears spilling onto her cheeks at the sympathy and love in her soul mate’s voice. “Christ, Dee, I love ya so much. I love you and our beautiful baby boy, he’s gonna be perfect Delia, I can feel it.”

 “Of course he will, look at who his mama is.” The Supreme cooed, peppering her swamp witch’s face with kisses. “I love you too, baby, to the end of time. Don’t ever doubt yourself again, sweetheart, alright? You’re perfect.”

 “Only if ya promise to do the same, darlin’.” The Cajun whispered, husk accented by the raw emotion in her voice.

 Cordelia pressed another sweet, loving kiss to her lips, shifting down the bed to kiss Misty’s stomach as well. “You hear that, little guy? You’re absolutely perfect. Your mama and I love you so much already and we can’t wait to meet you, darling boy.”

 Misty moved to run her hand through the Supreme’s locks, still cupping Cordelia’s hand to her stomach. “Dee, he’s kickin’ up a storm.” The younger blonde grinned, moving their hands in circles where her son was kicking. “Hey there, Viv. We love ya so much, _mon petit_. Only one month till we meet ya, _mon cheri_.”

 Cordelia grinned at the terms of endearment. Though she and Misty had struggled with choosing a name, they had finally decided on Vivien during her sixth month. Though uncommon as a boy’s name, it was the meaning that had so attracted them in the first place; _alive, animated, lively._

“My sweet boy,” The Supreme cooed, feeling their baby boy nudge back against their hands. “You’re going to have the best childhood ever, pumpkin, I promise you that.”

 “Yea, you here that, Vivi? And ya know it’s gonna be true, because in all the years I’ve known her, your mother has never been wrong, not once.” Cordelia blushed and rolled her eyes at the Cajun, mouthing a “ _Have so”_ at her wife.

 The swamp witch smirked, before murmuring to their son again. “You’re gonna have a perfect childhood and a perfect life, _mon petit._ You’re gonna find things you’re good at and excel, you’re gonna have a great career and marry a beautiful man or woman and have a bunch ‘a kids someday, or not, if that’s what ya want. Your life is yours to decide, dear one.”

 Misty took a deep breath before speaking again, her voice shaking. “Nobody, and I mean _nobody_ , is ever gonna hurt ya, darlin’ boy. You’ll never know the lick of a belt ‘cross your thighs, or a slap across your face.”

 “You’ll never know the pain of isolation.” Cordelia whispered against Misty’s stomach, squeezing their clasped hands. “You will never know the feeling of being unable to make your parents proud.”

 “Nobody will ever take advantage of ya.” Misty spoke fiercely, fire in her eyes. “You’ll never be robbed of your innocence.”

 Cordelia’s heart broke at the pain in her wife’s eyes, pressing a kiss to her stomach before moving up to meld their lips. “I couldn’t protect you then, though I wish I could’ve.” She breathed, running her hand through the Cajun’s wild curls. “But I promise you this, I will protect our son, we both will. He will never go through what you went through, what I went through. Never.”

 “I love you, _God_ do I love you.” Misty whimpered, fusing their lips together.

 “And I you, delight of my heart. I love you so much, baby.” Cordelia groaned against her lips, her tongue seeking out Misty’s.

 All of a sudden it became a heady, needy kiss; all teeth and tongue and lips. The Supreme moaned as the swamp witch tugged her bottom lip with her teeth, tongue snaking out to brush against her own. She trailed her hands up Misty’s stomach and over her breasts, utterly intoxicated by the breathy little _whimper_ the younger blonde let out. She circled an erect nipple with her thumb and lightly pinched the hardened peak, suddenly thankful that the swamp witch slept naked, more often than not. Misty threw her head back with a whine, and Cordelia took the opportunity to ravish the soft skin of her neck, lightly nipping and sucking at the alabaster flesh.

 “I think the storm’s over.” The Cajun gasped out, fingers threaded into her wife’s hair. Cordelia chuckled into the swamp witch’s ear. “I hadn’t noticed.” She purred, lightly biting at her earlobe.

 “Oh _God,_ Delia, baby, fuck. Please, darlin’, can we-”

 “Make love?” The headmistress bit her lip, face flushing. It felt a bit awkward to say, though she couldn’t deny she desperately wanted the swamp witch. She needed to feel her wife’s skin against her own, needed to feel their bodies come together and say the words their mouths couldn’t form.

 “ _Yes._ ” The younger blonde’s lips met hers in a sweet kiss, pulling back with a coy bite of her lip. “How do ya wanna do this? I don’t feel much like movin’ right now.”

 Since Misty had entered her second trimester they’d had to get rather creative in the bedroom, and while at first they had greatly enjoyed experimenting with different positions, lately it had felt more like a chore.

 “Are you okay if we stay like this? You’re supposed to lie on your left side anyway, and you look pretty comfy.” Cordelia giggled, shuffling closer to the younger witch.

 “If you’re alright with that.” The swamp witch shifted to nip at her throat, trailing kisses up the pale skin to purr in her ear. “This way I can touch ya at the same time. Are ya sure you can reach okay?”

 The Supreme let her actions speak for her, trailing her hand down to cup her wife’s ass, lightly squeezing the soft skin before bringing the younger blonde’s leg up to wrap around her waist. Satisfied with her answer, Misty leaned in to meld their lips together once more. Cordelia moaned, tongue darting out to trace the Cajun’s bottom lip, gently tugging at it with her teeth. She moved to cup Misty’s jaw as their tongues danced, raking her hands through wild curls.

 Lightly tugging the swamp witch’s head back, the older blonde bent to resume nipping at her throat, her tongue tracing the marks she had left. Misty whined, hands clutching at her wife’s shoulders, while Cordelia breathlessly chuckled against her skin. The younger blonde’s hands shot down to grope her ass and the Supreme gasped, retaliating by dragging her hands down to cup the younger witch’s breasts. Her thumbs traced slow circles as she moved to cherish Misty’s collarbone, biting at the sweet skin while trailing kisses down the gentle slope of her chest.

 Misty let out a strangled moan as the older witch shifted to lip and suck at a nipple, one hand threaded in the Supreme’s blonde strands. Cordelia raked her teeth over the taunt skin, gently tugging on the pink peak before trailing sloppy kisses over to her neglected breast. Her hand crept up to keep tweaking at the pebbled peak, her tongue swirling round its twin. Throughout her pregnancy, Misty’s nipples had grown incredibly sensitive, with Cordelia more than happy to indulge in her newfound sensitivity.

 The swamp witch let out a low, throaty moan, hips canting forward as the Supreme ravished her chest. The older blonde tucked her thigh between the Cajun’s legs, encouraging her to grind against it with a hand to her hip. With one last nip, the headmistress advanced up the younger witch’s body, capturing the swamp witch’s mouth in a harsh kiss. Misty whimpered into her, hips rolling against her thigh as she began a slow, rocking rhythm. Cordelia groaned, feeling how wet the Cajun was against her skin. Although she had wanted to take things slow and sweet, her pent-up lust was getting the better of her. It had been far too long for both of them.

 Cordelia pecked her wife’s lips, grazing her hand down her stomach before drawing her leg back. Misty whined at the loss of sensation, only to throw her head back as an utterly _unholy_ noise was torn from her throat; the Supreme had slid two long fingers inside her, curling forwards in a way that made her hips spasm. Desperate to give her love the same pleasure, Misty slid her hand between her wife’s legs, swirling her fingers round a hardened nub. Cordelia whimpered, chewing her bottom lip as she nodded her head in a vigorous _yes._

 “I love you- _so much._ ” Cordelia gasped out, thrusting her fingers harder into the swamp witch.

 “I love ya too.” Misty panted, grinding her hips against her wife’s hand. “Oh my _Lord._ ”

 The older blonde worked her fingers harder still, and it was all the Cajun could do to keep her own hand moving against her wife, so dizzyingly entranced by the Supreme was she. Cordelia traced fast, tight circles onto her clit with her thumb, and the younger witch moved to copy her actions; thrusting first one, then two digits into the headmistress. Cordelia cried out, burying her face in the swamp witch’s neck as she fucked into and against her.

 “ _Baby.”_ Misty gasped out, hastily speeding up the pace of her hand, as she felt her own walls tighten around the Supreme’s fingers. She was so very close, and she wanted to bring her wife to completion with her so very badly. “I love ya so much, oh _God._ ” She husked, bringing her lips to meet the older blonde’s in a desperate, ardent kiss.

 “I love you, I love you, oh God, Misty, _fuck._ ” Cordelia pounded her fingers into the younger witch’s wetness, curling her digits and stroking _that spot_ , making the Cajun wail and thrash against her. The Supreme whined, her muscles clenching as the swamp witch responded in kind, the room filled with their desperate pants and whimpers. “Cum with me Misty, _please.”_ The older witch moaned, reaching up to cup her breast, thumb swirling round a rosy peak.

 Misty threw her head back and wailed, tipping over into ecstasy with the Supreme tumbling right after her. They shuddered and clung to each other, crying out names and declarations of love and ardour, whispering to each other even after they’d been brought back down from their high.

 Cordelia nuzzled into her swamp witch’s chest, murmuring contentedly as the younger blonde traced soothing patterns onto the flushed skin of her back. “ _Je t’aime,_ Cordelia.” The Cajun ran her hands through blonde locks, ducking to kiss the older witch’s head.

 “I love you, my darling, and you, my sweet boy.” The headmistress rested her hand on the younger witch’s stomach.

 “So much,” The swamp witch rasped, voice raw with emotion. “More than anything else in the whole world. I love ya both to the ends of the earth.”

 “To the moon and back again.” Cordelia shifted to wrap an arm around her wife, pulling her impossibly closer. “I love our perfect little family, so much.”

 “Me too, Dee, you’re gonna be the best mother ever, darlin’. Our baby boy has such a bright future ahead ‘a him, don’tcha worry.”

 “I won’t be worried, my love, because I know you’ll be right there with me.” The Supreme pressed their lips together in a sweet, chaste kiss, before laying back down in her wife’s arms; letting the rhythm of her heart lull her into a deep, peaceful sleep.

 She didn’t want to be anywhere else.

 

                                                                              **Fin.**


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